


Mad Man's Lullaby

by ridgeline



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Ficlet, Lullabies, M/M, One Shot, Pagan Min's A+ Parenting, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26813200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ridgeline/pseuds/ridgeline
Summary: The panic attack hit Ajay two weeks after the first battle.
Relationships: Ajay Ghale/Pagan Min
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Mad Man's Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fuzziestpuppy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzziestpuppy/gifts).



> Big thx to my beta mimic, who also knows as beta 69. (reading notes on the memo)

The panic attack hit Ajay two weeks after the first battle. At that time, he was in the Ghale Homestead, trying to make himself dinner: lentil soup in a pot on the fire, two sel rotia in a bowl on the desk; a pound of two days old deer meat on the chopping board, half of it were slashed into long and thin slices.

Suddenly, Ajay's eyesight blurred.

It was like static in his vision, a blank. He saw something - things that were too blurred to recognize; sounds, too. The sound of bullets, burning trucks, and screams. He felt dizzy - felt like the whole house was spinning around him. Ajay grabbed the front of his jacket, couldn't stop shaking. He only managed to put down the bloody knife in a safe place, then fell down on the floor, curled up, both hands grabbed on his head.

It wasn't physical pain, not really. More like echoes from memories. Ajay's sweaty cheek clamped on the rough floor, he gasping softly in silence. Deep in his mind, Ajay saw the man whose head was blown into three pieces by his automatic rifle when he and the Golden Path soldier were rushing out of the palace on the truck. Ajay saw the spring of blood spattered in the air, saw the tearing kins and shattered bones flew after it. And two seconds later, the car bumped, the front wheels hit on the headless man's body. A dull sound Ajay didn't care then but could clearly hear now.

Smells, screams, the sounds of fire and death; terror, excitement, the rush of adrenaline; all chaos and horror flashed in his body. Ajay was shaking, like a sick dog in the rain, his lips closed and opened in vain, making wounded, gagged sound. Only now realized what he had done and what does it means.

Black and gold spots dancing in front of his eyes, Ajay inhaled deeply, drawing in the smell of old build and deer blood. He was soaking in cold sweats, his heart beating like a wild drum in his ribcage. Ajay eyed on the ceiling blankly, the wooden had been turned into black by years of cooking and leaking rain. He started at the stains and clenched his fists tight, clenched his teeth, clenched his body into a solid thing. _Hold on, hold on to it._

But the shaking didn't stop.

A beep sound busted in the shortwave radio, broke the silence.

"Ajay?" A familiar voice asked through the wave, lingered in the air.

Ajay groaned. He gasped.

"Ajay?" Again, the annoying voice wouldn’t give up, "Ajay? Are you there?"

Silence. Sweat was dripping on Ajay's lips, lukewarm and bitter, almost like oil. He took a breath, felt exhausted.

"It's me, Pagan."

A pause.

"I know." Murmured Ajay.

"Oh."

After the short and surprising sound answer, the radio had gone quiet but Pagan Min's breathing echoed in the radio wave, like static. Ajay listened to it, without care. Somehow, it's not as annoying as it used to be.

After a minute or two, Min signed.

"Are you injured? I imagine……" He said, then hesitated.

"No," Said Ajay.

"Ok, good, good."

Silence again.

Ajay closed eyes, finally be able to change his posting. He rolled to a side and lied on his back. His limbs hurt from the intense grip, but his skin now felt the roughness of the floor, and the wet coat on his thighs. He could hear the soft sound of stove fire. It almost felt the terror last for an hour or more, but maybe it's less.

He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling. It's still the same, ordinary, plain, realistic.

Killing wasn't realistic, it’s not like eating, sleeping, walking. It’s something they won’t teach you in school. You could do it, without a second thought. Ajay thought. It didn't feel like reality. Bang, bang, then you are dead.

Like that.

He didn’t know why or how things turned out like this. How come he’s one who had survived?

"Are you high, boy? Listen I wasn't judging but……"

"No," Ajay said, his voice sounded calm, to his surprise.

"Oh, then……" A cough busted mic; Min probably high as a kite. His finger clicked on the radio, made a snap sound, "I'll leave you be, seemed I had caught you on inconvenient time."

"You always caught me on inconvenient time," Ajay answered.

Softer chuckle.

"I suppose I was." Said Pagan.

"Listen," Said Ajay, "You said you knew me as a child."

"I was."

Ajay inhaled, but didn't exhale. He raised his hand, stared at it. His knuckles were bruised, covered in yellow and black spots, a shallow cut on his purlieu. Those were't a normal American boy's hands, not anymore.

He just never thought about it.

"Maybe……you could sing me a lullaby? I am tired." He said.

"Oh,"

Ajay waited.

"Are you on your bed?" Asked Pagan.

"No," Said Ajay, "But I'm on the floor."

"Maybe a bed is better? I really don't know the young man now though."

"I wasn't going to sleep."

"Oh," Pagan said this phrase for the fifth time, and it's wordless silence again.

Then he began to sing.

"月光光，照地堂，虾仔你乖乖瞓落床……"

Ajay relaxed on the floor, hands in loose fists on his stomach, he listened to the foreign words, it sounds sweet and old, must from another age. He tried to picture Pagan sing those songs to his sleeping bed, but couldn't imagine it. He raised his hand, wiped his bleeding lips with the back of his hand. It's gone, the horror, Ajay realized.

How sweet the sound. He thought.

FIN


End file.
